


How Sherlock Got the Willies

by ChrisCalledMeSweetie



Series: Spooky Johnlock Stories [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternative Meeting, Humor, M/M, Spooky, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/pseuds/ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: If a vampire, a werewolf, dancing skeletons, and a dismembered giant can’t give Sherlock the willies, who can?





	How Sherlock Got the Willies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forensic_laughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forensic_laughter/gifts), [MrsMetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMetta/gifts), [mylittleficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleficlet/gifts).



Young Sherlock Holmes was never frightened, for he had too much sense to be afraid of things that went bump in the night.

 

One October evening, Sherlock and his big brother, Mycroft, were walking home after dark. The wind howled, and the trees creaked and groaned. The road led past a graveyard, where the moon lit up rows of tombstones.

 

Mycroft began to quiver and quake. “Ooh!” he said. “This place gives me the willies!”

 

“The willies?” said Sherlock. “What are the willies?”

 

“Do I have to explain everything to you? The willies are when you get so scared, you shiver and shake.”

 

“Well!” said Sherlock. “I never had anything like that! I wish _I_ would get the willies, so I’d know what they’re like.”

 

The more Sherlock thought it over, the more he wondered about the willies, and the more he wished he could have them.

 

One day he told himself, “If I want the willies, I’d better go look for them.” 

 

So he said goodbye to his family and started down the road. 

 

Sherlock walked for many days. Everyone he met, he asked, “Can you give me the willies?”

 

Many tried, but none could.

 

At last he came to a cottage in the woods where he found an old wise woman. 

 

“Can _you_ give me the willies?” Sherlock asked. “And perhaps some tea and biscuits, too?”

 

“I’m not your housekeeper, dear,” said the old wise woman, but she gave Sherlock some tea and biscuits anyway. 

 

Sherlock drank the tea and ate the biscuits. They were very good.

 

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, can you give me the willies?”

 

“No,” said the old wise woman, “but I know where you can get them. Follow this path until you come upon a haunted castle. If you spend the night there, you are sure to get the willies.”

 

“Oh, good!”

 

“There’s just one problem,” said the old wise woman. “No one who goes there ever lives through the night. But, if you stay alive and break the spell, you’ll find the castle treasure!”

 

“That’s fine with me,” said Sherlock, “as long as I get the willies!”

 

It was midnight when Sherlock reached the castle. The towers cast eerie shadows under the full moon. The drawbridge lowered itself at Sherlock’s feet. _Creeeeeeeeeeeek._

 

“Seems like an interesting place!” said Sherlock.

 

As Sherlock entered the great hall, a fire sprang to life in the huge fireplace. Sherlock pulled up a chair and settled himself to wait.

 

“Now I’m _sure_ to get the willies,” he said.

 

The clock in the great hall struck one. _Bong._

 

“Velcome!” boomed a voice behind him.

 

Sherlock looked around and saw two men playing cards. One had a long, black cloak, and the other had a furry face.

 

“Vould you care to join our game?” asked the man in the cloak. “It’s been so long since ve had anyvun to play vith.”

 

“Certainly,” said Sherlock, taking a seat. “It will pass the time, while I’m waiting for the willies!”

 

“I vill explain the rules,” said the cloaked man. “If my furry friend vins, he vill rip you to shreds. If I vin, I vill drink your blood. If you vin, ve vill let you live.”

 

“Sounds fair to me!” said Sherlock.

 

The furry man snarled and dealt the cards. They played for almost an hour. In the end, the cloaked man won.

 

“I vant to drink your blood!” he said, moving closer to Sherlock and showing two long, pointy teeth.

 

“I think you cheated,” Sherlock said. He reached for the pointy teeth and broke them off— _Snap!_

 

“YEEE-OWWWWWWWW!” howled the man as he ran from the hall.

 

The furry man roared and leaped at Sherlock, but Sherlock sprang away and the man flew past — right out an open window. Sherlock heard a piercing scream, then a dull _thud._

 

He settled himself again before the fire. “I enjoyed the game,” he said, “but when do I get the willies?”

 

The clock struck two. _Bong. Bong._

 

Sherlock heard a rattling, and into the hall marched a long line of skeletons.

 

The first skeleton snapped its fingers. _Click. Click._

 

The second skeleton knocked its knees. _Clack. Clack._

 

The third skeleton drummed its skull. _Clock. Clock._

 

The fourth skeleton tapped along its ribs in a little tune. _Clackety, click clock. Clackety, click clock._

 

The skeletons formed a circle and started to dance. One skeleton stretched a hand toward Sherlock.

 

“Oh, I love to dance!”

 

Sherlock took hold of two bony hands and danced in the circle around the hall.

 

The music got faster. _Clackety, clackety, click clock clackety. Clackety, clackety, click clock clackety._

 

“Hold it, I can’t dance that fast!” shouted Sherlock over the clatter. But the skeletons gripped his hands harder and danced even faster. _Clackety clickety, clackety clockety. Clackety clickety, clackety clockety._

 

“I said HOLD IT!”

 

Sherlock gave a yank and— _Pop!_ —the two skeletons’ arms came right off. The music and the dancing stopped.

 

“I think you lost something,” said Sherlock.

 

The skeletons rushed at Sherlock and started jumping on him. Sherlock grabbed a chair and swung it, this way and that. _Crash! Bash!_

 

Bones flew here, there, and everywhere, till the skeletons lay all in pieces on the floor. Sherlock gathered them up and tossed them out the window. 

 

“I do love dancing,” he said, as he settled again before the fire, “but I wonder when I’m going to get those willies!”

 

The clock struck three. _Bong. Bong. Bong._

 

From up the chimney, a deep voice called, “LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW!”

 

Something huge came falling down, swerved to miss the fire, and — _thump_ — landed before the fireplace. It was a giant body, with no arms or legs or head.

 

“LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW!”

 

 _Thump thump thump thump._ Two giant legs and two giant arms landed next to it.

 

“LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW!”

 

 _Thump._ A giant head landed by the rest.

 

“I see!” said Sherlock. “It’s a puzzle, and I have to put it together!”

 

Sherlock heaved the two giant legs and stuck them onto the body. _Snap. Snap._

 

Then he stuck on the arms and the head. _Snap. Snap. Snap._

 

The giant jumped up. “The spell is broken! You’re the only one ever to put me together. The others all died of fright long before this! Now follow me to the castle treasure.”

 

Sherlock followed him down, down, down to a deep, dark dungeon. The giant heaved open a massive door and motioned Sherlock inside.

 

Sherlock stepped through the doorway into a torchlit chamber. The floor was covered in thousands upon thousands of gold coins. They sparkled and gleamed in the light from the torches.

 

A man stood atop the pile of gold. He wore a Vivienne Westwood suit, minus the trousers. His eyes burned with a black fire.

 

“Hello, Sherlock,” the man said. “I’m Jim. Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain, and I’m yours. A little bird told me you’ve been wanting to get the willies. Well, you’ve come to the right place.” 

 

Jim gestured to the wall behind him. Sherlock saw a young man chained there, wearing nothing but manacles. Jim walked over and stood beside him, facing Sherlock.

 

“This here is John’s willy,” Jim said, grabbing the young man’s penis and giving it a shake. “And this here is mine,” he said, grabbing and shaking his own. “So you see, you have two willies to choose from. But I’m sure you’ll agree that mine is better.”

 

Sherlock did not agree.

 

He called for the giant, and ordered him to free the prisoner. The giant snapped the chains and broke the manacles as if they were made of eggshells. 

 

“Now, take Jim away,” Sherlock commanded.

 

The giant picked Jim up and carried him, kicking and screaming, away into the night.

 

Sherlock and John were left alone with the pile of gold.

 

“Did you really come here hoping to get the willies?” John asked.

 

“Yes,” said Sherlock.

 

“Do you think you could settle for just one willy?” John asked.

 

“Oh, yes,” said Sherlock. “So long as its yours.”

 

Luckily for Sherlock, it _was_ so long, and it was definitely John’s.

 

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> This story is wearing a lot of hats - Halloweenlock, Sherlock Challenge (Alternative Meeting), Children's Classics with a Johnlock Twist - but I think it makes up for that by not wearing a lot of pants. If I managed to give you the willies - or a good laugh - please leave kudos and/or comments. :)


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